Savage Messiah

CHAPTER XLIX

When the pair of patrolling warriors first heard the laughter, they thought little of it. With so much activity in the royal residence these days, all manner of noise had become commonplace. The distant laughter waxed and waned, but as the Minions continued down the corridor, it grew louder. The two warriors stopped and looked at each other.

"Do you hear that?" Oleg asked.

Nodding, Justus quickly held up one hand. He turned his head, trying to determine where the laughter was coming from, but with all of the traffic in the hall, he couldn't tell. Finally he indicated that they should walk on.

As they went farther, the laughter grew even louder, and its timbre changed from lighthearted to delirious. The warriors realized that something was very wrong. Then the screaming began.

Drawing their dreggans, the warriors started to run. Following the frantic screams as best they could, they eventually skidded to a stop before the door to one of the many personal chambers. From inside came the sounds of breaking glass, and for a few moments the screaming be came much worse. Then they heard a series of soft thuds, and things went eerily quiet.

Without hesitation, Justus kicked the door. After another kick, the sturdy Eutracian oak gave way and the door banged open. Dreggans held high, the warriors rushed into the room.

The Minions were no strangers to death, but they were unprepared for the sight that greeted them. After making a quick search of the adjoining rooms, they sheathed their weapons.

"Go find Abbey and Adrian," Justus ordered. "And have a guard detail posted outside the door. Be quick about it!" With an obedient click of his boot heels, Oleg hurried away.

Sighing, Justus shook his head. He crossed the room, parted the drapes, and opened the windows. The sunshine only accentuated the ghastliness of the scene. ALONE IN HER CHAMBERS, ABBEY POKED HER fork at her breakfast of spotted quail eggs. Shawna had cooked them just the way she liked-slow-fried in a generous portion of fatback. The accompanying hog loin strips and dark gingerwheat toast all looked delicious, but she couldn't bring herself to eat any of it.

Exchanging her fork for a teacup, she took a sip of the dark, rather bitter brew. She had made the nerveweed tea herself, hoping it would calm her. The cup was still warm in her palms, and the tea felt good going down.

Deciding to abandon her breakfast for good, she stood and walked to her dressing table at the other side of the room. The image reflected in the mirror showed how tired she was from worry and lack of sleep. Sitting down, she picked up her brush and began absentmindedly running it through her hair.

She feared for everyone who had left the palace, but Faegan's group concerned her the most. They had been away far too long. Given the large number of warriors involved, they should have made short work of the Valrenkians and returned home by now. With each passing moment her worry increased.

With so many members of the Conclave gone, she knew it would be up to her to come to the aid of the crippled wizard and his warriors. In one hour, she was to meet with Adrian in the Conclave chambers. Abbey had an idea, but she would need Adrian's help to carry it out.

When she heard the insistent banging on her door, near panic gripped her. Dropping her brush to the table, she shot to her feet and whirled around.

"Enter!"

The door opened to reveal a Minion warrior. His chest was heaving.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Still trying to catch his breath, the warrior made a quick explanation. Abbey immediately tore from the room, and the two of them ran pellmell down the corridor.

When they reached the chamber, the doorway was ringed with guards. Brushing them aside, Abbey rushed in.

Sister Adrian was already there. Her face was pale and drawn. Vivian and the warrior Justus stood beside her. No one spoke as Abbey took in the grisly scene.

Lionel the Little was dead. He was naked and blood still dripped from his body. A crude hangman's noose had been fashioned from his bedsheets and looped tightly around his neck; the other end was firmly tied to one of the room's chandeliers. Several tipped-over chairs lay near his dangling feet. Abbey realized that he would have needed them all-one stacked atop the next-to have reached the chandelier.

His neck was clearly broken, and his swollen, discolored tongue protruded grotesquely from between his teeth. The bedsheets creaked softly; the breeze coming through the open windows slowly turned his compact body in circles.

In one hand, the gnome still clutched the jagged neck of a broken wine bottle. Wounds on his torso suggested that he had used it to try to disembowel himself.

Justus stepped forward. "This is exactly how we found him," he said. "I did not touch anything other than the windows and drapes, because I was sure you and the wizards would wish to view the scene intact."

Nodding, Abbey walked closer to the swaying corpse. "You did the right thing." She turned back to Justus. "You are sure that there was no one else here with him?"

Justus nodded. "I searched the adjoining rooms, and the windows were all locked from the inside. This appears to have been a suicide. Before Lionel died, his screams sounded insane-just as they say Geldon's did."

"Cut the body down," Abbey ordered. "Take it to the Cubiculum of Humanistic Research. Adrian and I will be along shortly."

Justus and Oleg took the body down from the chandelier, wrapped it in a blanket, and then carried it from the room. Abbey turned to Adrian and Vivian.

"Do the two of you understand what this means?" she asked.

Adrian nodded. "Satine has just claimed her second victim."

Vivian scowled. "Who is Satine?"

"I'm sorry," Abbey said. "I thought that by now Adrian might have told you. Satine is an assassin we believe has been hired to kill members of the Conclave. Apparently, she's targeting more than just us." Abbey paused, noting the look of shock on Vivian's face.

"But this recent attack means far more than that, I'm afraid," she went on. Walking to the windows, she looked out over the palace grounds.

"What do you mean?" Adrian asked.

Abbey turned around. "Don't you see? Satine was somehow able to breach the palace walls. She slipped by all of the Minion guards and she killed one of us right under our noses! This was as much an insult to us all as it was an act of assassination. She is as good as telling us that we're not safe-even here in the palace! When we examine Lionel's body, I'll bet my life that we find the same pollutants in his bloodstream that we discovered in Geldon's."

"We should close the drawbridge and make an immediate search," Adrian insisted. "We already know what she looks like. Perhaps she's still here."

Abbey shook her head ruefully. "Trust me, she's long gone. It is far easier to depart this place in the daytime than it is to sneak in at night. My guess is that she waited, then simply sauntered out through the gate this morning with the usual smattering of wounded well enough to leave. How clever! Tell me, can you place the same azure field around Lionel's corpse that Faegan did for Geldon's?"

"Yes," the First Sister answered. "But it will not be as strong. If a necropsy is to be performed, it will have to be soon."

Abbey looked over at Vivian. "If you will excuse us, the First Sister and I were about to meet in the Conclave Chambers. We have much to discuss. Please stay here and see if you can discover anything else that might help shed some light on what happened."

Vivian bowed slightly. "Of course."

After the other women left the room, Vivian's face darkened. She had not attended the interrogation of the captured Valrenkian, and yet Adrian and Abbey had spoken of Satine as though the assassin's identity was something Vivian already knew.

Abbey was no fool. Had the herbmistress' comments about Satine been merely an oversight, or something else? As she continued to gaze out the window, Wulfgar's servant came to several disheartening conclusions.

Not only had the Gray Fox's identity been uncovered, but Vivian would have to be even more careful from here on. She must immediately return to the fountain in the middle of the square. Her thoughts turned to the message she would be forced to leave in the burbling water.

Bratach would not be pleased.